


A Letter for Mrs. Collins

by shittydemon



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/F, Short, i wrote this after shower and still haven't put my clothes on, lizzie is hopeless but also not, lizzie misses charlotte, yeah they're gay keep scrolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittydemon/pseuds/shittydemon
Summary: Elizabeth writes her friend Charlotte a letter a week after she visits her and Mr. Collins at their new home
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Charlotte Lucas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	A Letter for Mrs. Collins

Dear Charlotte,

It’s only been a week since I’ve come home and I am ashamed to admit this, but I miss you already, and so terribly. It’s rather embarrassing, how I am used to being near you at all times. Please do not misunderstand me, I am happy for you. Although I was against this marriage in the beginning, I can now see the merits. You finally have a home where you are comfortable, it is a lovely home too. Imagine if we could live in that home, just us? We could have our morning walks in that beautiful garden, I would cook you breakfast when we come home. Imagine sitting in the drawing room just talking for hours, or maybe reading together, acknowledging each other’s presence in silence. Imagine that room filled with sunshine. I can see your raven hair glowing in the afternoon sun, without needing to close my eyes. But I am getting ahead of myself, as usual. A house like that needs a family, a man and a woman. I suppose there are rules of this world that we cannot do anything about. But don’t they seem arbitrary, my dear Charlotte?

I am sorry if I make no sense. Mary is practicing the piano very loudly and Kitty and Lydia are arguing about something, I am not sure what. The house is chaotic as usual, still somehow it isn’t enough distraction for me. Maybe if Jane were here, your absence would be more tolerable. At least I could have a fulfilling conversation with her. But you and I did not only talk, did we? There was something more, something I cannot quite put a name on. Or maybe I try not to put a name on. 

Do you remember that night at the stables? I know we agreed not to talk about it but I find myself thinking about it more and more. It is a terrible, terrible thing. Imagine the harm we would have done to our families if someone had seen us. But I did not think about anyone but you, and I know you only thought of me too. You value logic and say you were never a romantic, but I saw you that night. I saw something in your eyes, something dark and unknown. Something hopeless. You knew there was no hope for us when you kissed me. I was angry at you for a long time after that. How can you act without thinking the consequences, how can you give me hope when there is none left? But right now, my dear Charlotte, I am doing the very same thing you did that angered me so much. I am writing this letter, knowing there is no hope for us. I am writing you to beg of you, to know how I feel. I thought I would not have the courage to say it this time, but I have said this to you a million times before. And I am only now realizing that I meant it in every single time.  
I love you, Charlotte.

Yours always,  
Eliza


End file.
